Cowboy Not Included: The Boot Knockers Ranch, Book 6 (8 page)

“Yes, she does.”

“Her eyelashes were always so long.”

“They’re longer now.”

“I don’t know how that’s possible,” he said.

“Don’t you? You have the same eyelashes.”

He threw a look at her and found her cheeks were pink. “Are you wearing sunscreen?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, Booker. You don’t need to take care of me.”

“I kinda like it.”

That shut her up for a while. Once they crested the hill, she let out a happy noise. “You can see for miles.”

“I love it up here.”

“Do you get to ride often?”

“Only when I’m doing chores.” He raised a brow at her. “The horses are warmed up. Ready for a run?”

Before the words left his mouth she dug her heels into her mare’s sides and shot off. Releasing a whoop, Booker chased after.

Skye didn’t run in a straight line but zigzagged across the field. His chest tightened at the vision she made, cutting across the land he was as familiar with as he was her body. He could navigate the dips and swells of both blindfolded.

She threw her arms out to the sides and let the mare have the lead. Booker couldn’t take it another minute.

“Yaw!” He leaned forward and raced to overtake her. When he intercepted, he reached out and grazed her shoulder with his fingertips.

When she tipped her face up to his, her lips were ripe and parted, inviting his kiss.

They slowed. He slid off his horse and stood waiting for her to come to him. This cat and mouse had begun their relationship. She’d led him on a merry chase, but once he’d caught her, he’d taken charge.

Her boots hit the ground in front of him. Their gazes connected.

And she tipped into his arms.

She smelled of grass and woman. For a moment he couldn’t breathe. Gaze locked on her lips, he burned. Kissing her would tempt fate. Just one taste.

Would she let him back in? She hadn’t given him a chance before. Besides, he loved his job. He was a Boot Knocker through and through.

One taste wouldn’t hurt.

When he cupped her delicate jaw and searched her eyes, he saw a spark of the Skye he’d met that long-ago day on her uncle’s ranch. Tucked up in the hayloft, he’d kissed her for hours. Then he’d shimmied her jeans down and her top up and made her fight to stay silent.

His pulse drummed in his temples. One taste would turn into a big bite, but that’s why she’d come here—to get laid. And he knew just how to make her scream.

The decision flashed in his brain a split second before he ducked his head and claimed her mouth with a groan.

Booker’s lips were every bit as hard and delicious as they’d been years ago. As he angled his head, she parted her lips. His tongue plunged deep, sweeping the interior. Her head spun with his flavors and need and emotions.

She clung to his neck and pressed her aching breasts against his chest. Her body screamed to get closer, closer, to take what she needed.

A squeak left her throat, and he swallowed it. Growling, he thrust his tongue into her mouth again, gathering her sounds. When she stroked his tongue back, a shudder ripped through his body.

Hands clamped on her backside, he lifted her against his erection. Hard steel grazed her pussy, and suddenly they had on way too many clothes. Using her arms, she levered herself up and wrapped her thighs around his hips.

“Fuck, Skye,” he grated out, rocking against her pussy. She burned, throbbed. A wildness tore through her and all caution concerning her ex vanished.

This was what she’d needed for so long. A great fuck.

He ground against her pussy and her body awakened. Flesh memory was more powerful than any romp with a stranger, even if he was a hunky cowboy.

He yanked his mouth free as if it took more effort than he had to give. Panting, he stared into her eyes. “I fucking want you.”

A thrill hit her belly and slid lower. Her body rioted with a
hell, yeah
. And right now her mind was too dazed with hard muscles and the man she’d once been in love with.

“I fucking want you too.”

His mouth twisted at the corner. “Dirty mouth.” They fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

Booker’s hat tumbled off as he opened his mouth over the vein pulsating in Skye’s throat. She tasted as sweet as he remembered. Better, actually. Like a fine wine, she just got better.

He fitted his cock against the V of her thighs and jerked upward. She cried out. Pleasure rocked him. He needed to get their clothes off—now.

As he sucked the spot on her neck that would drive her crazy, he followed the lines of one leg to her boot. She jerked her leg to help him remove it. The other followed. She writhed against him, a little hellcat in his arms.

God, she felt amazing. So right. When was the last time he’d wanted anyone this badly?

Forever. He tore off her top and dived for her breasts. Her cleavage was made for his tongue. Her nipples designed for his lips. He sucked one bud until it was straining before going for the other.

Her fingers on his scalp sent shudders through his system. His chest was too tight for this to be simple lust, but he’d deal with his emotions later. A Texas tornado could pick up the whole ranch and drop it in the Gulf of Mexico and Booker would never know. Having her in his arms again—under him—sent him into a tailspin.

She scrabbled between his shoulder blades, pinched his shirt and hauled it over his head. They shared a grin and threw themselves at each other.

Their mouths collided as their bare skin touched for the first time in too long.

She sucked in a gasp, and he fed her a moan. Passion roared in his ears. Plucking her nipples, he kissed her until his cock was about to burst.

“I need to taste you.” He broke free and pressed nipping bites down her body to her belly. Skimming over the silvery stretch marks that resulted from Findlee. And lower to the button of her jeans.

He was a pro at stripping a woman before she could blink, but he felt inept when it came to Skye. His fingers too thick, his mind too crazed.

It was like the first time again.

He ripped her jeans and panties off in one movement. Her laugh was one of total glee. Tossing her a grin, he prostrated himself between her curvy thighs.

The scent of pure woman assaulted him, and for a throbbing minute he feared he’d lose control. Grinding his teeth, he fought back the impulse to come in his jeans like a teenager.

When he planted a soft kiss on her inner thigh, she writhed. God, how long since she’d been touched? Did she have boyfriends? He didn’t care if she did—she was going to know who was fucking her right now.

Lunging upward, he covered her pussy in one big bite. She arched off the ground. Their horses grazed not far away. And Booker was burning up.

He flicked his tongue along her soaking seam, gathering juices. Dipping the tip between her slick folds, he found her honeyed center.

A wild haze stole over his mind. He sank his tongue deep, splitting her. She thrust against his mouth. He tongue-fucked her five times…six…before dragging his attention up to her swollen bud.

The pink bundle of nerves begged for him to suck it.

She grappled at his shoulders, dug her fingers in his hair. He latched on, sucking, lapping the core with the point of his tongue. Her pussy squeezed, and he released her clit with a gulping breath.

Before she moaned her disappointment he speared her with his tongue again. Snaking deep, tasting her familiar cream and hungry for more.

He wanted to worship her pussy for hours. And damn well would—later. Easing two fingers along her thigh, he shifted his mouth to her clit and filled her with his digits. The one thing that would send her flying.

He curled his fingers and found that patch on her inner wall that drove her from zero to ninety in seconds. She lifted off the turf, muscles quivering. Her pussy pulsated already. Juices flooded his hand.

With a peek at her beautiful face, he stopped breathing. The ecstasy on her features emblazoned itself on his brain. How many times had he dreamt of seeing that again after their breakup?

He wagged his head back and forth, tonguing her hard nub while fucking her with his fingers. She shook. Cried out. And came with a rush. She slammed her pussy against his mouth and hand, taking what she needed.

Fuck, he’d give her the moon if she asked right now.

Passion soared as he drew out her orgasm. Before her sexual haze left her, he reared onto his knees, shoved down his boots and clothes and fitted himself with a condom. She watched him with slitted eyes, her chest still rising and falling sharply.

She still wanted this—wanted him.

In the back of his mind, he knew it was quite different from wanting
them
but that was okay. The present was the present. He’d look to the future later.

He dug his fingers into her hips and hitched her legs higher. Then holding her gaze, he thrust home.

Skye’s body convulsed around Booker’s length. With short cries, she threw her arms around him and he began to move. God, everything was bigger in Texas, but this was ridiculous.

When he locked his lips over hers, passion flowed to all corners of her body. He tasted of her, and his beard was wet with her juices. She didn’t care. She threw herself into kissing him with all she had.

He withdrew almost to the tip and slammed back inside. The grasses chafed her bare ass, but she ignored it. She’d deal with the sting later. Right now she was getting her cowboy on.

His tongue moved in and out of her mouth in time to his hip thrusts. Tilting her hips, she brought him deeper. Her body still hummed from orgasm but she was so damn close again. She could come ten times and not tire of this exquisite pleasure.

He scraped a kiss down her throat and showered the tops of her breasts with kisses. The rhythm of his hips never faltered. When he braced himself on one arm and fucked her with slow, maddening strokes while holding her gaze, her body climbed.

Fucking hot. Her ex was the hottest man on this ranch.

His eyes darkened, changed. She knew he was close and the desire to drive him over the edge fueled her.

She wrapped a leg around his hip and settled her calf on his shoulder. He rocked. She rolled under him. Muscles glistened in the sun. The puzzle pieces inked on his pec seemed to quiver.

“Hell. I can’t get deep enough.” He yanked her ass upward, striking a spot she didn’t remember owning.

Her pussy throbbed. The throb turned into an earthquake.

With a wild groan, he pushed deeper still.

And came.

She burst around him, eyes closed in bliss as waves stole her mind.

Booker was so comfortable he didn’t even mind the grasses prickling his bare skin. Skye was cuddled up beside him, seemingly as uncaring. Nearby their horses fed on sweet grasses and clouds scudded overhead.

He couldn’t remember the last perfect moment like this.

Dragging in a deep breath, he looked down at the woman in his arms. Her little braid had come undone and the ends fell into one big brown eye.

A strangely buoyant feeling bobbed in his chest. Was that hope? How long since he’d felt such a thing? It’d been so long he didn’t know what to really call the sensation.

For all he knew, it was indigestion.

He directed the strand of hair from her eye and gave her a faint smile. He was too exhausted for much more than that. The urge to fall asleep in the sun with his wife draped over him was not to be ignored.

She’s not my wife.

This could never work a second time, but he couldn’t help but wish things were different between them.

She skipped a finger over his tattoo. “Two puzzle pieces seems like an odd choice. Do you have something you aren’t telling me?”

Oh shit. He recognized that accusatory tone. His balls seemed to shrivel in preparation for the kick he was about to receive. Tensing, he said, “What are you talking about?”

“Do you have a special woman in your life?”

Anger flared hot and bright. He sat up, dislodging her from his side. “You always wanted to believe I was cheating on you, that someone was more special than you are. Well you’re fucking right.”

He stormed to his clothing and began to yank it on. Her mouth fell open and she covered her breasts with her arms. “What?”

Had he hurt her? Good. She’d stuck a knife in his gut and twisted. After what they’d just shared, for her to bring up such a thing—

He stomped into one boot then the other. “This tattoo is for someone more important to me—our daughter.”

His words made her eyes widen. Then she looked at the sky—a sure sign she was upset.

“It’s a symbol of father/daughter love and how we’ll always fit even if I’m halfway around the world. Now get up and get dressed. We’re going back to the ranch.”

Chapter Six

Skye felt as though she’d won a college drinking competition. Her head was foggy and her ears felt too full. Opening her eyes took too much effort. And when she moved her legs on the bed, she found soreness in places she hadn’t used in a very long time.

If she’d gotten three hours of sleep last night, she’d be surprised. Spending her vacation brooding over putting her foot in her mouth and analyzing her life’s mistakes was no damn fun.

Beyond the closed bedroom door she heard Booker moving around. It was unfair of her to hog the space with the bathroom but she couldn’t face him yet.

She needed to fortify her shaken walls.

Flopping onto her back, she stared at the ceiling fan revolving slowly overhead. After learning her ex’s tattoo represented his love for their daughter…

Her throat closed all over again. Tears bulged at her lashes. She was touched beyond belief.

A quiet click sounded from the front of the bungalow, and she jerked onto her elbows, listening. Had he just gone out? Without saying a word to her? He must be really pissed. She’d forgotten about his hot temper. Somehow that trait had been one that was glazed over in her mind.

With a sigh, she got out of bed and rushed through a shower. When she threw on cutoff shorts, she stopped herself from wondering what Booker would think of her in them. Because they were not getting intimate again.

Even if it was mind-blowing. Her pussy pulsated to life at the memory of his tongue, fingers and cock there. Yanking a top over her beaded nipples, she faced the mirror. Hopefully she could talk him into getting her another cowboy. Now, more than ever, she needed some distance between them.

Especially when the sex they’d shared was all she could think of. That and the hurt fury on his face when she’d suggested his tattoo was for a new love.

Her hair was still damp and she contemplated drying it, when a noise sounded again. She went to the bedroom door and opened it to see Booker setting a breakfast tray on the small table.

When she scanned the tray, she noted one dome. One mug. One juice glass.

“You’re not eating?”

“I grabbed two bananas. I’m heading out to the field to work, but I’ll check in before lunch.”

“Wait—you’re leaving me alone?” Her heart did a weird leap/dip thing she couldn’t name. “What if I run amok?”

At that, the corner of his hard lips twitched. Almost a smile but he was still angry with her.

“The guys are all warned off you, so you can freely roam the ranch. The swimming pool, hot tub or stables are at your disposal.”

She blinked. “Warned off me? What the hell did you tell them?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

Outrage was a five-alarm fire ripping through the framework of her body. She gasped, fingers snapping into fists. She opened her mouth to launch her verbal attack, but he silenced her with one action.

He rubbed his hand over his face. The motion stopped her in her tracks. The last time she’d seen him do that had been at the very end of their relationship—after begging her to give him her trust.

She’d shut the door in his face.

“I’m going, Skye.”

“I’m going to find trouble.”

He shot her a crooked smile that blazed through her panties. “Good luck with that.” He turned for the door.

“Wait.”

Pivoting slowly, he eyed her.

“I…got a new photo of Findlee yesterday.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he drifted toward her.

She fished her phone from the pocket of her shorts. They were tight enough it took a little bit to work it free. His gaze lingered on the scrap of denim. When she waved the phone before his eyes, he snapped to attention.

As soon as she brought the image up on her phone, she saw it—that smile she missed. The one that reached his eyes, crinkled the corners and sent her heart thumping.

His big hand clasped around hers, cradling the phone. “She’s so damn beautiful.” The gritty tone of his voice heralded his emotion.

And hers was too close to the surface.

He released her hand and spun for the door again. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

She watched his back until wood separated them. This time not in a fun way.

Though her appetite was non-existent—for food at least—she went to the table and sat. After sipping delicious, fresh orange juice, her spirits brightened. The coffee was rich and dark, just as she liked it, and the scrambled eggs light and buttery with a dash of salt.

Feeling a little restored, she went to find her boots. If she was on her own, she was taking advantage of the ranch.
And we’ll see how warned off the other Boot Knockers are.

Outside the day was as pretty as a postcard. She dragged fresh air into her lungs and stared at the countryside. Such amazing land—and the view by the barn wasn’t bad either.

Five cowboys knotted around something she couldn’t see.

She set off toward them, a spring in her step.

She sidled right up to them before they noticed she was there. One looked up, his dark eyes flashed and he sidestepped away from her.

What the—?

“I’m Skye.”

Five sets of eyes descended on her. Blue, brown and a hazel. Not at all like Booker’s. “We know,” one drawled.

She tried to peer past one’s shoulder. “Whatcha looking at?”

A big man blocked her view.

“It looks too big for a barn cat,” someone said.

“I don’t know,” another drawled. “There’re smaller prints around it.”

They were looking at an animal print in the dirt? Maybe her short shorts would get her access. She deliberately bumped her hip against a cowboy wearing a battered brown hat. Just as she hoped, his gaze slid over her from top to bottom and bottom to top, sticking on her short shorts.

“Can I see too?” she asked in her sweetest tone.

“Uh, sure.” He shifted to the side and she was able to see the dirt. A big print there might be skewed by a running cat, or it was really a big cat. As in predatory cat.

Someone bumped her ass from behind. Awareness zinged through her. Craning her neck, she shot a smile at the cowboy. “What do you suppose it is?”

“We have a big barn cat or two. Might have been running and the dirt spread under its foot.”

“Or it could be a mountain lion?” She straightened and stepped back at the same time—settling herself against hard man. She expected to feel a shock of desire as she did when she pressed to Booker.

She wiggled.

Nothing.

The cowboy grunted, and then everyone scattered. Suddenly she was standing alone but for one cowboy who stood ten paces off.

“You know how to find the grub house, li’l lady?” the brown-eyed Boot Knocker asked.

“I just ate breakfast.”

“Good. You can find your way around, I’m sure. We’ve got chores.” He set off walking.

Anger replaced her shock. Booker’s words flooded her mind:
You don’t wanna know.

Yes, she damn well did want to know what he’d told the Boot Knockers to keep them away from her. They’d run from her as if she had Ebola.

Smashing her lips into a line, she stalked to the chicken coop. She spent some time watching the hens. Then she walked around the pool, uninterested in laps without a companion.

Finally she ended up in the barn, talking to the rescued horse and stroking its neck. The animal still didn’t have a name and Booker had asked what she’d call her. Nothing came to mind yet.

“I’ll be gone at the end of the week, but I promise to find something to call you besides Dolly.”

The horse whickered and nudged her hand. She wished she’d brought a trail bar to treat her with.

She wished she had someone to talk to besides this horse.

Like Booker.

When he wasn’t making her crazy with his snide remarks or conjuring memories of their bad times, she liked him. Especially when he was soft-eyed over their daughter.

And while driving inside me.

Heat prickled her skin and she showered more attention on the horse. She couldn’t let Booker through her defenses again. Physical release was one thing, but she was already getting too involved.

“Maybe I’ll just call you lover,” she told the horse. “It doesn’t look as if I’m going to be able to call anyone else that.”

Sweat coated Booker’s upper body, and he welcomed the burn in his muscles. Hard work was the only thing that could keep him sane these next few days—that and a stolen moment or two with Teller.

How the hell had his world gone so sideways? Having Skye on his turf was bad enough. But she made him face all these things he’d hidden from for a long time. He’d been wrong to stay away from Findlee, but at one time he’d believed it best for his daughter to stay out of her life.

Now that wasn’t the case, and he was making a trip across Texas ASAP.

Laughter sounded just around the corner of the outbuilding where he stood shoveling feed some wild animal had scattered. He wiped a drip of sweat from his eye.

“Her ass was so damn round. Fit perfectly right here.”

“She’s off limits, but dayum, I could hit that again and again.”

He dropped the shovel. Rushed around the side of the building and glared down the two cowboys standing there. He’d talked to them hours before about staying away from Skye. The cowboy was one of their younger crew. Pretty new and as horny as they came. “You talking about my woman?” Booker growled.

His face blanked—all the answer he needed. He’d fucked her.

Booker was on him in a blink. His right hook caught the young, stubbled jaw, rocking the Boot Knocker’s head. Booker cocked his arm to strike again, when the other Boot Knocker yanked him off. Forced back, panting for control, he eyed the man who’d plowed into his wife’s tight little body.

My ex
, his brain reminded him. It didn’t matter. He was irate either way.

He shook off the cowboy’s grip and strode away, down toward the bungalows.

When he hit the front door, it slammed off the inner wall. Skye lounged on the sofa, a dirty magazine in one hand and her other inside her shorts. Hell, her fly was open and he couldn’t see nearly enough.

“Who were you with this morning?”

The magazine fluttered. She lowered it and closed her thighs.

Hell, now he was hard as hell.

“Who?” he demanded. He knew but wanted to hear her say it. Did she even know the Boot Knocker’s name?

She sat up, eyes narrowing. “What do you care?”

He gripped her upper arms and hauled her to her feet. “He said your ass fit so nice against him. Dammit, Skye.”

Her features went through a change of expressions as profound as seasons changing. Confusion, realization, guilt.

Booker reached around her and smacked her ass—hard. The sting traveled up his hand into his shoulder and she gasped.

It sounded so hot he did it again.

Gasp.

Smack.

Gasp, gasp.

“I warned you not to fuck anyone, Skye.”

“No, you said you warned them off me and wished me luck getting any.”

Her saucy tone took up residence in his skull, along with some evil elves with jackhammers. His temples throbbed. The image of that guy pounding into his wife’s hot pussy doggy-style added a third layer of pain.

Jerking her onto tiptoe, he hovered over her sweet rosebud lips that deserved to be puffy from sucking his cock in punishment.

“Damn you, Skye.” His voice was gravel.

“Damn you.” Hers was breathy.

He claimed her lips. His tongue conquered. She shivered and he reached between her round thighs to lock his hand over that tormenting strip of denim. “Fuck, you’re soaking wet.”

“I was looking at porn.”

A primal growl left him. Picking her up, he walked her five steps to the nearest wall and sandwiched her between plaster and his body. Dipping at the knees, he ground his cock into her pussy.

She cried out.

“I’m going to fuck you. Then spank you. Then make you suck my cock then spank you some more.”

She quivered, lips parted, chest heaving.

“I don’t think you have the guts to do those things to me.”

“Watch me, sweetheart.” Pinioning her on his thigh, he freed his cock. Putting a condom on took too damn long. Then he grabbed that little slice of denim and pulled.

A tearing sound filled the room, along with a soft cry from Skye. He plunged past the soaking cotton of her panties to her center. She split around him, falling forward.

He captured her lips and bit down. She writhed closer, arms snaked around his neck.

With all the control of a teen boy, he thrust her up the wall. Fucking her hard and fast, plunging his tongue deep. Taking everything she had. Owning her soul came with too steep a price, but goddamn if he didn’t want to be the only man who knew her like this—wild and needy.

Locking one hand over her breast, he pinched the bud as he withdrew his cock from her slippery passage. She squeezed his length as it left her. Fuck he wanted more. Closer. Harder.

Angling his hips, he struck a spot so deep he knew she’d lose it. He wasn’t wrong.

“Come on my cock, baby. Come on me.”

A throaty cry tore from her as her body clamped down. He stared into her blurred eyes while juices coated him.

Power flooded his brain.

“That’s it. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Her pulsations went on for long seconds. Before she was finished, he gathered her off the wall and carried her to the bed, still joined. He pulled free of her body, rolled her over and caressed her backside.

The roundness was his, goddamn it. It fit him perfectly…right…here.

He molded his hand to fit her cheek. Using his other hand, he removed the condom. Then he stroked his length while rubbing her ass in small circles. Bringing all the blood to the surface before he spanked her as promised.

She burrowed into the covers and circled her hips to meet his every touch.

The first smack roused a scream of shock.

He bared his teeth in a wild grin. “I warned ya.”

“Booker!”

A second smack resounded. “Do you want the belt? Tell me you want the belt.”

“Fuck, no! Fuck you!” Her churning hips belied her words. This was all show—foreplay. She wanted this as bad as he did.